Page 86 of How To Plot a Payback

“Mum’s the word.”

She purses her lips. Taps her foot impatiently.

I take a breath. “The thing is, I have a”—I lower my voice—“strong dislike for Lavender.”

To say she is visibly startled is an understatement.

She blinks several times.

Squints at me.

Her nose wrinkles and she turns to face Lavender.

Looks back at me. “Don’t pull my leg, Finn. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” I say humorlessly. “Deadly serious.”

“No no no no,” she says, raising a finger. “I’ve been watching you. That can’t be right. You like her.”

“I dislike her.”

“You absolutely do like her,” she says more adamantly.

“I absolutely do not,” I reply with equal force.

She gestures toward Lavender. “Then what have I been watching unfold between you two the past few weeks? She follows you around. You follow her around.” She pauses. Squints. “Is this a British thing? Is this like one of your British jokes?”

“I am not joking,” I say, exasperated, then stop myself. “You know what? Forget all about it. You don’t need to know anyway, and Adam will be here any moment.”

I take a step towards the stage, but she blocks me with her clipboard.

“Halt, Finn Masters. You lay it out for me right now or I’ll tell Goodwin about the chickens.”

I look down at all five feet of her and the clipboard, which is not the stone wall she seems to think it is. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“I’m a happily married forty-year-old mother of four with sixteen years of sleep deprivation who peeled dried macaroni off my hair on the way to work this morning. I need a good story. I need to feel the drama.”

She looks all red in the face and serious. I gently push the clipboard aside. “Fine. For the sake of your happy marriage.”

I tell her everything, starting with that very first incident at the ripe old age of seventeen. By the time I’ve finished, her eyes have shifted from mirth, to shock, to empathy, to what I see now: an unreadable expression as her gaze frequently shifts from me to my nemesis on set.

“So that’s what you’re doing then? You’re getting payback for the hurt she’s caused?”

“I am. I’m not proud of it, but I am.”

“But, Finn . . . ,” she begins. “Surely you see—”

“That she’s not as bad as all the proof in my memory? Well, you weren’t there, Paula. It’s easy to paint over the transgressions of someone’s past when they’re not personal. People always want to free the convict who murdered someone fifteen years ago if he has a sappy story. People are quick to forget the actions of the past when they’re not personally involved.”

“Nobody was murdered here, though.”

“And I’m not intending to murder anyone either. Or get them fired. Or kill their dreams entirely—despite the fact certain persons have repeatedly killed mine. I just want a little bit of payback. Just a tiny appetizer of—”

“Revenge.”

“—justice,” I correct. “Just a moment of fairness.” I raise a hand. “And before you say anything more, please don’t guilt me on this. I’ve lived a good life. I pay my taxes. I take my neighbors’ pets to the vet. I just want this.”

“Who’s guilting you?” she clucks. “I think you’re being an idiot, but I’m not guilting you. You got Adam Glassner to come here. I’m all for the show.”